Overlord And The Blue Citadel - Chapter 9

Three days had gone by since the Paladin Order assigned to the wall had sent couriers out to notify the rest of its members. An order to sortie and prepare to defend against a monstrous beast encountered from within, capable of destroying their holy swords in a single bound.

From Hoburns, the Capital of the Roble Holy Kingdom, A distinguished covered wagon, drawn by four six-legged horses came at an impressive state of urgency.

It hadn’t even slowed down when one side of the carriage jumped from one of its wooden wheels hit a stone. Due to its speed, the large wagon nearly flipped over on the gravelly path to the Great Wall that separated the Roble Holy Kingdom from the rest of the world.

“Hold!” One of the men on board shouted to its passengers who gripped onto the interior, to keep themselves steady. No one in their right mind wanted to fall out of the speeding vehicle.

One man in particular who was sitting near the front, peering passed the driver, in silence. He wore a stony deadpan face, an unchanging expression as he daringly stared ahead over the driver’s shoulder. Those eyes of his locked on the imposingly grand structure that dominated the Wall.

How many years would it have taken to build such a structure? Why did its architecture look so foreign? This man couldn’t answer his own questions, as he quickly noticed the frosty fog that was crawling over and onto the wall.

Taking in a deep breath, he nearly coughed in the dry air as the temperature began to drop once they made it within a hundred meters of the thing.

His eyes were maddened, even murderous, and narrow just like his daughter’s. Pavel Baraja had heard his wife and daughter were out on patrol along the wall. The moment he got this news, he didn’t think twice and his unit was immediately dispatched to the Wall.

Wearing enchanted leather armor that increased his resistance to various types of attacks. Visibly it had an owl embroidered on his left peck and the emblem of the Kingdom on the right side of his chest. It was clear Pavel was equipped with a number of magical items, a sign of prestige and power, recognition by the Kingdom itself.

The bow on his back gleamed with a faint light of magic energy. His boots kept his movements silent, hardly detectable by ear. Upon his finger was a Ring of Deflection, an item that deflects incoming projectiles. On his shoulders was the mantle of Shadows, a cloak that allowed him to remain hidden amidst ambushes.

If he couldn’t find his wife, his daughter, he would charge into that tower to retrieve them. That was what his unit was thinking as they were the only things that could make his expression change. All they had to do was mention their names, reference them in any way.

Orlando, a powerful man in his own right with bulging muscles and stout neck, watched over him. He was a fellow member of the Nine colors. Having taken the seat across from him within the wagon, he couldn’t stop himself from matching his gaze.

His own unit was in a wagon several meters behind, a group of delinquents that he commanded who loved violence and battle just as much as he did.

Eight standard edge swords, a small rounded shield on his forearm and Heavy Leather Armor which his muscles could still be felt through. He was prepared for an all-out assault, for battle, but the courier’s letter had very little information on their probable enemy…

The only thing they knew was that whoever, or whatever they were, the individuals were stronger than they had ever seen. And the environment within the tower was bewildering, it was large on the inside as if it was an entirely different plane of existence.

The way it was described gave all the men chills, all except for the Archer, Neia’s father. His fears were far different from theirs, as he saw his daughter as fragile and gentle, someone who could easily be hurt in such a situation as this.

While he didn’t necessarily know why she would ever want to be a Paladin, and that he wanted her to simply be a normal girl, fall in love, and get married. it didn’t seem like anything was happening as he wanted.

Still, he knew how far she was willing to go, even if she couldn’t use a sword… She had a talent with a bow, and she had told her to garner her talent, just like he had.

Pavel glanced down at a doll his daughter had whittled out of wood for him when she was younger, it was his good luck charm. A small smile etched itself across his lips, though the doll looked more like a monster than anything else, it still reached his heart.

“Boss,” Orlando turned to the Mad-Eyed Archer, “Your smile is going to scare the rest of your unit,” he chuckled lightly as he leaned forward a bit as the bumpy ride continued.

Returning to his stone-faced expression, his eyes shot through Orlando like daggers. “Not as much as your ugly mug,” though sounding serious he was completely kidding on the matter.

“Is that so?” Sneered the man as he leaned back upon the inner wall of the wagon, his eyes tracing back towards the massive citadel. “Whatever made that thing appear out of nowhere, must be powerful, wouldn’t you say?”

“No doubt,” Pavel returned to gazing at the good luck charm, hunching forward in his seat, as it rested in both of his hands. “That report had no losses recorded, but it also didn’t detail the encounter either.”

“You’re not wrong… It’s as if they encountered some sort of man-beast…” Orlando grinned to himself, clearly imagining himself in battle. “In the case, it being able to break a blade with a graze of its hand…”

“Is it not strange there were no losses in such a scenario? Did it not fight back?” Pavel caressed the wooden doll with his thumb before closing his eyes, listening in for their approach.

Orlando blinked at the questions that Pavel had asked, it made the brute think. “I’ll assume we’ll find out when we get there?” He spoke in a questioning tone, becoming perplexed.

Not long after, they did come pulling on up to the outer wall stables. One after another, his Unit jumped out the back of the wagon. Orlando’s unit followed suit as well, moving to their more appropriate positions.

After sending his unit onto the wall, Pavel entered the commander’s tent where most of the Squires were being used as couriers to relay commands to each sect of the Order.

He came to a stop however as he didn’t see his daughter. His eyes resting upon the second in command of the Order, he raised a brow, clenching his jaw as he narrowed his eyes on a leather-bound book that laid out open on the table.

The drawings, the style, and handy work were that of his daughter’s. He could recognize it anywhere he went. Yet as it was there, he did not see an inkling of her within the tent or outside in the field.

“Pavel Baraja the Black!” Gustav Montagns greeted him, taking the attention of the room and plastering it upon one of the strongest members of the Nine Colors.

“Where is Neia…?” Pavel centered his gaze on the Grand Master’s second in command, rolling his jaw side to side. He still didn’t see his daughter in the tent even as a few more Squires entered. “Where is my daughter?”

Gustav soldiered through the turbulent glare of the man, “She was part of the forward team that went inside the citadel after the exterior was secured to gain more intelligence.” Placing a hand on the book, and pushed it across the table situated in the center of the tent and over to the man. “She didn’t make it out, according to witness accounts, she is presumed dead.”

Pavel didn’t give the book another glance, there was no hesitation as he darted out of the tent, barreling right past his wife. His boots dug into the frosted ground with each stride, he didn’t stop as he shoved just about anyone who had gotten in his way onto their backsides.

Slowly he came to a brief intermission, standing in front of the gaping mouth of the massive tower. The entrance looked like it had been made for something massive to enter.

Those sharp eyes of his trailed over the inscriptions he recognized from Neia’s drawings. The intelligence she had gathered. His eyes then moved forward towards the corridor ahead. From where Pravel stood, it looked almost… Endless.

“This… Place,” Pavel breathed out seeing his breath. Turning his head side to side, he could see eyes within the fog watching him. “They said it was secure,” he uttered to himself, believing himself to be surrounded by predatory creatures at the sight of the blue glowing eyes.

Without a second thought, he returned to running, this time directly into the corridor. No matter where his daughter was, no matter if she was alive or dead, he would find her.

+ + +

Fenrir nestled in his throne, watched as Neia had gone back to training. It had been three days since he had introduced the routine, and she didn’t fail to perform.

Due to the Draugr being from the center of the Niflheim, they were much harder to kill than any zombie she had encountered. However, just like anything else with a soft spot, their eyes and mouths were the targets. Just like when dealing with a dragon, its scales protected it, but its eyes were its structural weak points if one didn’t have the magic to slay it outright.

Despite her improvements and his gifts, she seemed timid of him. Fenrir wasn’t ignorant as to why either, she was essentially his prisoner who was given special privileges. The likeliness of her actually trusting him was low, as she feared retribution should she offend him, considering she saw him as some sort of God due to his creations and power alone.

His wolf-like ears perked up however as he overheard Anima make a sound of pondering, a low-pitch hum in the back of her throat which resonated with his sense of hearing.

At first, though he ignored it, seeing as if she saw it to be important, she would report it. That was responsible, right? His eyes drifted over towards the control node which was to the right of the throne, otherwise hidden by a number of draping fabrics and almost only being able to be seen when the viewer is seated.

“Hmm…” Reaching over he rested his hand on the node, holographic screens appearing before him. Mercenary spawning, floor viewer, and other management tools were there before him.

“Fenrir-sama!” Anima swiftly made herself known, directly in front of him, standing stiffly ready to get a report of great urgency.

The shout that emitted from the woman, it pulled Neia’s attention from her training and caused her to lower her bow. Out of curiosity, she could be seen creeping back on over to the throne, the bow folded at her side.

“Do not hold back what you’re going to say, so say it now, Anima Espa.” Fenrir kept a stern disposition about himself, his two-toned eyes wondering over the dark Valkyrie and then over towards the smaller blonde that was now standing behind her.

“Panic had occurred after the arrival of one of the wagons bringing in more Paladin units. What appears to be a single human archer has entered the Citadel’s main corridor… After shoving a number of his compatriots out of the way after they tried to stop him.” Amina gave an objective statement, based on what could be seen, since one could not use the Atlas to hear anything. “What will your choice of action be? I can eliminate him before he reaches the Labyrinth if you so please…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Fenrir waved his hand in dismissal, “I’ll take care of it…” Reaching over he would open the floor viewing controls and switched the screen over to the first-floor corridor.

Neia moved alongside the left side of the throne, to see over his shoulder what he was looking at. Her eyes fixated on the screen immediately, widening at the sight she saw.

The man charging down the corridor was none other than her father. His eyes dead forward, a look of determination across his face. He was coming for her, his fragile and gentle daughter.
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Her eyes fondly rested on the item in his hand, the wooden doll in which she had carved for him, an item she had made to remind him of who he was fighting for. Then that’s when she noticed from her peripherals… Fenrir’s had animalistic ears twitching on the top of his head.

“I can see where you get those eyes from,” Fenrir uttered as he faced her, locking his gaze with her own. “Assuming that is your father?” A small grin formed over his lips as he reached over and grazed the back of his fingernails across the side of her delicate throat. All he needed to do was swipe his fingers and she’d be bleeding out on the floor, though the idea as it sat in his mind, left a bad taste in his mouth.

Neia tensed at the feeling of his hand, goosebumps propping up along her skin, as she could hear Anima go and resume her observing of the Atlas once more. “It-it is my father… Yes…”

“Do you trust me to deal with him?” Fenrir spoke in an ambiguous tone, meaning either killing him or taking him prisoner or even talking him down. Yet he didn’t emphasize.

“What…?” Neia felt like there were knives being sent into the back of her head from the words that had left his mouth. The smile he had planted on her lips on a number of times, was nowhere to be seen. “No…” She shook, having to force out an objection while taking a step back from the throne.

“You don’t trust me!? Hah, You wound me, girl…” Sarcasm rang from his lips, “After all I’ve given you,” his eyes shifted over her as she had made space between them. “Do you want to trust me?” Holding his hand out to her, he narrowed his eyes. “Or are you afraid to trust anyone?”

Tensing her jaw as he spoke of trust, she relaxed her brows but continued to center her glaring eyes upon him. They looked like one big question bubbling over in her mind.

Since her arrival, he had been lax with her and even friendly as if they were both on the same level. Fenrir had begun training her, seeing her as a future follower and pupil.

“Even though you had sworn fealty, you are hesitant to trust your Lord, the one and only one who had spared you from death.” Fenrir retook his stern demeanor as he leaned back in his throne, letting his hand remain elevated from his side for her to take. “Gravelyn would’ve killed you all without question, should she had been the first to encounter your Paladin Order…”

“Please, forgive me for what I am to say, Fenrir-sama… I implore you, please do not take offense… But you… You spared me in order to gain knowledge of the outside world that surrounded your tower, you kept me because you’re alone even when surrounded by people who worship you.” While her voice remained low in volume, its impact made him more aware of her impeccable observations, but she was somewhat wrong in her findings.

“…For one, yes. I did want information as to why a bunch of unknowns had entered my sanctum. Where they had come from, and as I came to realize it, where I have come to be.” Fenrir exhaled slowly with a cold gaze still resting on her. “I could’ve captured any one of them… But when I saw you betrayed in such a manner, I found a kindred spirit in you. The information taken from you was a bonus.”

Neia’s gaze faltered for a moment as the god which spared her, explained his actions. He had no reason to do such a thing and yet he clarified his intentions and his sentiments. Fenrir has tasted betrayal, though it wasn’t necessarily all too life-threatening as hers had been.

“…Kindred spirit? You have been betrayed… By another God?” She questioned freely, feeling weight being pushed off of her chest.

“Other Gods, former lovers, and colleagues…” Fenrir subtly cleared his throat as he rested his hand upon his leg. “Betrayal has slighted me more times than I can count.”

Neia understood betrayal and neglect, emotional distress and destruction. Her childhood ‘friends’ had kept a distance from her. Though she didn’t try, her eyes still managed to push people away. She was never good at interpersonal interactions, let alone long-term relationships.

To be able to relate to a God, a being who stood so much higher above everyone else, seemed to calm her down even more. Her eyes drifted down to his hand which he had once offered her.

“Do you want to trust me?” Fenrir recited his question, keeping his gaze settled on her face. “Have I ever slighted you?”

“…” Time was limited, he wasn’t just going to let her father stumble any further into the Citadel. And if her father made it to the opening, he’d surely come in contact with three powerful beings that he even as one of the strongest soldiers in the Kingdom, wouldn’t be able to defeat.

Hesitantly she held a hand out towards him, “You won’t kill my father…?”

“Do I have a reason to?” Fenrir’s hand met with hers, giving it a light squeeze as he stood up from the throne.